to be done with time
by flowermasters
Summary: Kylo and Hux do the logical thing while waiting for someone to come after them. AU where Kylo is a girl.


A/N: ... how does one do chronological order? Or self control? Really.

Warnings for: cisgirl Kylo, Kylo/Hux, "you're alive!" sex, discussions of past death.

This is a part of a larger AU. It's set before "sort of hoping that you'd stay." The title of this comes from "Don't Stop" by Gin Wigmore.

* * *

Kylo allows herself a moment's rest, leaning against the kitchen table and trying not to disturb too much of the dust coating it. Tomorrow they'll have to air the whole place out, but Kylo is honestly tired enough that she can deal with a bit of sniffling. Getting the pipes in the kitchen to work had taken the better part of the afternoon, but they _are_ working, and she can be satisfied with that for now. The plumbing in the fresher is going to be a more arduous task, and will therefore have to wait for tomorrow, too.

Kylo doesn't even have to reach out for Hux's mind to get a sense of him; she can see him through the small, grimy window over the sink, standing outside with his back to the house. He's shaking a blanket free of dust and who knows what else. There's a small pallet in the house, just big enough for two, but Hux had put his foot down immediately at the idea of sleeping on the ancient, possibly filthy sheets. Kylo doesn't have the heart – or the patience – to tell him that the blanket is probably equally unclean.

Kylo watches him for a moment longer, and as if sensing the scrutiny, Hux turns suddenly and starts toward the house. When he enters, he's shivering, still clad only in a thin First Order medical jumpsuit, but he doesn't mention the cold as he takes the blanket to the pallet and arranges it neatly. "This'll do for now, I suppose," Hux says briskly – the first words either of them have spoken aloud in quite some time. "Did you manage to get the plumbing working?"

"Sort of," Kylo says.

That's not the answer Hux expects. "Really?" he asks, rather suspiciously.

"Yes," Kylo says dryly. "I alternated between cajoling and cursing at it until it started working – the Han Solo method for fixing things."

As soon as the words have left her mouth, Kylo regrets them – not only because it creates a strange clenching feeling in her chest to even think of such a thing, but also because it seems so wildly inappropriate to make a joke now, while she and Hux are standing here at the end of the line, in the lost little place where they've come to hide and wait. Hux, for his part, is taken aback, although he schools his expression well.

"Well, having never met the man, I'm in no position to argue," Hux says finally, moving to join Kylo in the kitchen. The house consists of only two rooms and a bathroom, so he doesn't exactly have far to travel.

Hux looks at her rather expectantly, even as he despises himself for it. He's done asking if she has a plan at this point; he knows she doesn't. Hux doesn't have one either, though, and it continually unsettles him.

They should eat something – they still have a few packages of terrible dehydrated food left over from the ship. They should rest, given that Kylo hasn't slept in days and Hux doesn't seem to have slept at all since they'd left that tiny base behind. They should work on cleaning this place up, although Kylo hardly doubts it will matter soon. Whether they hide for days, for weeks, for months – they can't hide forever.

Still, they are here now. It's much farther than Kylo had expected they'd get, and now she doesn't quite know what to do with herself, or with Hux.

Kylo studies him for a long moment, assessing him. His hair is tousled from being outside – this place is windy – and she suspects soon enough he will be running his fingers through it, trying to tame it. The shadows under his eyes are dark against the rest of his pale face. He needs a shave badly; she's never seen Hux with any semblance of facial hair before, although she supposes she'd always known he must have been capable of growing it. Unable to resist, Kylo wonders what that stubble would feel like under her fingertips, her lips – against her inner thighs.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at me all evening?" Hux asks, irascible as ever. Despite this protest, he hasn't moved.

Kylo steps towards Hux, reaching up to touch his cheek lightly. He doesn't flinch, although he would have not long ago. "I'm just looking at you," Kylo says quietly. It feels so very much like an admission of something she ought to keep hidden, for her own protection.

"You've only had days to look at me, Lady Ren," Hux points out.

Sometimes it feels like dying had turned Hux into a whole new person – one who would be willing to run off with Kylo to face an unknown and probably unfortunate future. Other times, like when he's being aggravating, he seems exactly the same as before. Kylo kisses him then for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which is to shut him up.

They haven't kissed since right after she'd pulled him out of his coma. To be fair, there's been a distinct lack of opportunity for it. Kylo feels like she's been starving for this, and she starts to curse her own weakness but she just can't manage it, not when Hux is pulling her close, running his hands over her greedily, like they've got some sort of time limit. They probably do, as a matter of fact, but they have enough time for this.

Kylo only breaks the kiss when she absolutely must, her breath coming in unsteady pants. "Take this off," she says, giving the front of Hux's blue jumpsuit a tug. "Let me see you."

Hux unfastens the jumpsuit with nimble fingers and divests himself of it, never stepping away. He's not self-conscious about being naked in front of her, but he's also not exactly comfortable with being stared at. Kylo simply can't help it – she needs to _see_ , needs to be totally certain that she'd put him back together properly. His body looks exactly the same as the last time she'd seen him unclothed, right down to the white scar on his side, the one he'd gotten in a fight as a boy.

"It's – strange, isn't it?" Hux says, far more aware of what she's thinking than he has any right to be. "I thought I would have scars."

"Strange isn't the word I would use," Kylo says, although she's not entirely sure what word she would choose instead. She meets Hux's gaze again, then skims the surface of his mind gently. He wants to kiss her again, but he isn't sure that's what she wants at the moment. He wants a lot more than that, too – Hux wants to kiss her, to bite her throat and leave a bruise, to spread her thighs and use his mouth on her til she sees fit to fuck him. Kylo observes so many ideas in his head that she decides to go with one she doesn't see, simply to save herself from having to make a more difficult decision.

The startled look on Hux's face when Kylo drops to her knees is downright comical, and Kylo has to try very hard not to laugh when she reaches up and wraps a hand around him. "What are you doing?" Hux asks, and Kylo is utterly delighted to see that he's blushing.

"Tell me to stop," Kylo says. It's a challenge, although her tone does not reflect it. "If you really want me to."

Hux stares down at her for a second, then says only, "Mind your teeth."

Kylo narrows her eyes at him but does not dignify that with a response. Hux is right to suspect that she's never done this before, but she certainly doesn't require instruction. She takes him into her mouth without preamble, and is rewarded when his eyelids flutter and he bites at his lower lip for just a second, using the pain to ground himself.

Her technique could probably use some improvement, but it's been so long since anybody did this for Hux that he doesn't even think to comment. The notion that somebody _has_ done this for him before, and likely with some success, spurs Kylo on – makes her resolve to learn exactly how to do this properly, to figure out every trick to make Hux unravel.

He rests his palm on the back of her head, twining his fingers through her hair, and Kylo contemplates swatting his hand away on principle but decides against it, mostly because she'd be lying if she said she didn't like the feel of it. There is an odd sort of power to be found in this, Kylo realizes suddenly, squeezing her thighs together and relishing in the pressure. Hux is at her mercy, every vulnerable bit of him exposed, trusting her completely –

Hux tugs on her hair then, and says hoarsely, "Stop."

Kylo does, and bizarrely feels rather offended, until Hux rolls his eyes at her and says, "Come _on_ , Kylo." He barely waits for her to rise to her feet before he's unfastening her tunic, his mouth at her jaw, and Kylo guides them blindly in the direction of the pallet, squirming out of her clothes on the way.

The tumble down to the pallet is somewhat disorienting, but somehow they right themselves almost immediately, Hux's narrow hips fitting perfectly between her thighs. The first press of him inside her is as good as ever, and Kylo arches her back and moans feverishly, digging her fingers into his shoulders. She doesn't actually intend to hurt Hux presently, but he lifts her hips for a better angle and she can't help it, she drags her nails down his back, and his answering groan tells her everything she needs to know.

Hux tries to slow the pace after a few moments, already close from what she'd done to him before. He grits out, "I can't – I –,"

"Don't stop," Kylo orders breathlessly, moving one hand to touch herself; she doesn't entirely know why, but she wants to finish with him, or as close to it as possible.

Hux comes with a curse that he muffles against her shoulder, and when he grinds his hips against hers, shuddering, Kylo follows with a keening cry that she doesn't bother to feel embarrassed about. She's still trembling slightly from the strength of it when Hux tries to move away from her, but she clutches him to her for just a moment longer, selfish.

"You're sweaty," Hux mumbles in protest, sounding mildly drunk in the wake of his orgasm. Kylo smiles.

"So are you," she says, and she licks his neck purely for the purpose of making him pull a face.

"You're disgusting," Hux says, wrinkling his nose, but Kylo can sense an odd twinge of affection that he doesn't quite know how to manage. Finally, she releases him and he rolls off of her, but he can't go far – the pallet is barely big enough for the two of them to lie without touching.

Silence falls, but it's not uncomfortable. For the first time in days, Kylo feels too good to think about anything – not the Supreme Leader, not the First Order, not the Resistance. It seems that fucking Hux remains a fairly effective way of ignoring potential problems.

After a moment, Hux rolls onto his side, curling up slightly as if preparing for sleep. Kylo is vaguely surprised by this; for some reason she'd still expected one of them to find an excuse to get up from the bed. They'd shared a bed once before, but while drunk. This is different. Pleasantly different, actually. Kylo doesn't move.

Hux is making a face again, and Kylo, as always, cannot resist the urge to needle him. "What is it, General?" she asks dryly. "Was that not to your liking?"

"The blanket," Hux says, opening his eyes to give her a sleepy glare, "now smells like dust _and_ sex."

Perhaps she's suffering from gallows humor, but Kylo finds this complaint, in light of all the other things to complain about, strangely hilarious. She laughs – real laughter – until her stomach aches, and then continues until Hux says, with equal amounts of annoyance and confused affection, "Will you _shut up_!"


End file.
